Fire and Rain
by Feirdra
Summary: Alone in the rain, Johnny reflects on the cruel truths of his life, and also on a certain Phoenix… Not yaoi unless you want it to be. Will the Majestics get there in time for one last reunion? Will they get there at all?


**A/N**: This is a fic starring Johnny MacGregor. I seem to be at my best in one-shots, so I suggest you read this. It's… odd. No other way to describe it. R&R!

**_Fire and Rain_**

Rain poured from the heavens, icy sheets of water flooding from the cracks in the low clouds. Silky red hair swayed gently, the color seeming to have been washed out of the long faded strands that trailed in the torrents streaming and whirling their waters over the gray ground. Long bands of deep blue cloth fluttered along the current, weaving their ends with the graceful auburn locks that danced sluggishly like a dying flame. The amethyst eyes were still open, however, their crystal depths still sparking with life.

He watched a trace of vivid red flare out in ghostly tendrils and branches before being swept away along the river that poured past and cupped its spurting waves over his white cheek, resting on the cold rough concrete.

There was no need to watch anymore. Soon the river itself would be stained and soaked in scarlet, fresh hot scarlet quickly intermingling with cool rainwater to form a strange startling blend to the touch. Even now he could feel himself emptying, drained like a broken fountain. He turned his bright eyes to the sky.

The sky… Icy stinging drops landed heavily on his cheeks and forehead, splashing water into his eyes, yet he did not blink. Everything was gray and blurry, indefinite in the dreary morning, the streets translucent with the flow of river water. When the clouds moved on the streets would sit still and wet, reflecting like a lake, and the brisk splashing sounds would stretch out from the cars sluicing up spray as they dipped into puddles along their way. But for now the rain came as though it would never end, and everything was misty around him as he lay alone, letting the cool refreshing water drench every inch of him, utterly numbing him to the agony that had been his constant companion since he had fallen there.

He loved the rain.

How ironic, Johnny thought, that he should love the very thing that nature had deemed he should detest above all else. Johnny MacGregor was a creature of fire, and yet he loved the rain that would extinguish the fire and leave it a smoking heap of ashes.

He smiled.

He loved the fire, too.

Ever since Salamulyon had come to him he had known what it was to be alive, to feel the heat of life in battle licking at your very soul and driving you to your utmost limit. He had been scorched, burned, even, but he loved the fire. And then for the first time in his life Johnny curbed his pride and admitted the truth.

The Salamander loved the fire, but it was not the fire. It merely borrowed from the warmth of another's flame, drew life and strength from that of another. And here it was that Johnny had balked ever since the fateful clash between the Majestics and the Bladebreakers, with the Bladebreakers coming out victorious while the Majestics were forced to bow their heads to defeat for the first time in their lives. The boy closed his eyes and quelled the surge of anger at the inevitable conclusion encroaching on his mind.

Johnny had realized that he'd come a long way in his Blading skills and his relationship with his bit beast since that fateful battle with the Phoenix, but until now he hadn't, or hadn't allowed himself to know the reason why. The Salamander was only a passing creature, but the Phoenix was eternal, as was its mighty flame.

He bit back a bitter soft laugh at the revelation. The Salamander devours its own tail. He'd read that in a book somewhere, and how true it was. What folly had driven him to return here, to the place where he'd nearly been broken so long ago? Bemused, he saw his own arrogance and self-assuredness grown beyond anything he'd ever have imagined.

Now the Salamander's time was up.

The almost feverish light in the crystal eyes dimmed and one hand jerked convulsively, clenching into a fist. Johnny had finally given in to the truth and these truths opened the floodgate to release so many more, buried away over the years in that secret corner of his heart still alight outside the battles. He'd been such a fool. Such a goddamned blind fool. He squeezed his eyes shut and the rain pooled in gleaming beads beneath his lashes before slipping from the corners in steady streams.

If only he could have made them understand… _let_ them understand… It was just another of those petty, pointless quarrels that didn't get anyone anywhere, and as usual, it was three against one…

"But Johnny, why?" Olivier's voice rang in his mind, as clear as it would have been if the bright-haired Parisian youth had been right there beside him.

Johnny could still see Olivier's delicate, open face, large dark eyes of hyacinth regarding him with sincere concern. The young knight snorted to himself. Olivier was always like that, all cheer and good nature and stupid questions. Johnny felt a strange kind of sadness settle deep inside him. Elegance and style, the damn French boy saw the world through a rosy looking glass!

He smiled to himself. That was probably the reason Unicolyon had chosen Olivier in the first place. The thought of Olivier as some "maiden" nearly had him choking with laughter, all the more because he could practically envision it. But when all was said and done, none could deny that the bright-haired boy's heart was pure.

"I don't see why it's any of your business!" he'd retorted, letting his temper get the better of him, as usual. "I'll go where I want and nobody's gonna stop me!" He glared at them, daring them to contradict him.

It was Enrique who spoke up then, serious cobalt blue eyes leveled calmly at him. "I don't think you get it, Johnny. We all know what happened there. Why do you want to go back?"

Johnny flinched at the implication, and quickly covered up by shouting angrily, "Leave me alone! I don't know what's up with you people, but it's really getting on my nerves!"

"Team members look out for each other," Enrique said quietly, "You know that."

"Team?" the red-haired boy spat, "_Team_?! Since when? I don't remember agreeing to join any kind of _team_. It was common sense to band up against the Bladebreakers, but I stand alone! So you can just take that stupid wishy-washy Bladebreaker nonsense and stuff it where you dug it up from, Enrique!"

"Quit being so stubborn!" Enrique's eyes kindled in annoyance. He was a laid-back kind of guy, but Johnny enjoyed pushing the blond Italian's buttons. "We're just worried, that's all! This isn't like you!" It was true. Johnny had always scorned those who mulled over the past and dissected it and tried to fight their way back to it as though diseased.

"You wouldn't understand!" The disagreement had escalated into a shouting match now. "You have no idea what he did to me! I'm stronger than that bastard now! I'm going to pound him into the ground and crush him like the bug that he is!" To emphasize his point, Johnny smashed his fist into one of the columns lining the frame-hung hallway, breaking the polished stone surface.

"You know, I'm going to have to insist you pay to have that repaired." Robert had been silent up until now. He fixed the Scottish boy with his unnerving sharp stare, colder than the northern winds. "I see that you won't listen no matter what we say. Go, then. Go alone. You will no longer be a member of the Majestics. I've tolerated the likes of you long enough."

Both Olivier and Enrique were shocked. "But Robert-" Olivier objected.

"Shut up!" the purple-crested leader snapped. The Parisian boy drew back in surprise. Robert had 'never' used that kind of tone with him. The Norseman was usually brusque with Johnny, but never him.

Johnny too was taken aback by the ultimatum, but then he lifted his head proudly, a fierce reckless glint in his eye, and turned away. "Hmph. I already said it and I'll say it again. I'm not part of any team, not the Majestics, not any other. I fight alone or not at all!"

"Get out, then," came the curt reply.

He hesitated, but then resolutely walked away from them without another word. He could feel their eyes on him, and he heard the couple of footfalls as someone started to come after him, then the murmured exchange as the steps stopped abruptly. Olivier, probably. The kid just didn't get it. It was over. Johnny MacGregor was walking out of Robert's mansion and out of the Majestics. Permanently.

It was the biggest mistake of his life.

Curse his pride! That was how this all started. That was how everything started going sour between him and the others. They were not his friends. No, friends gave as they received. The others had given him what they had, but Johnny had held back. Though the Majestics knew his darkest secret, and so thought they knew it all, they didn't, they just didn't…

Johnny MacGregor didn't express sympathy, or sadness or any of those other stupid overly personal emotions. Most people regarded him as an arrogant prick whose bark was just as bad as his bite outside the stadium and merciless with a Beyblade in his hands. He honestly didn't give a damn. His attitude kept the world at arm's length, including his three closest companions, and that was good enough for him.

Now why the hell had he gone and done that? Johnny had always just assumed it was his temper, something he couldn't help, that gave him such a badass reputation. It wasn't like he was afraid of hurt or betrayal or any of those other stupid things psychologists kept throwing around on TV and in the papers. He'd been burned plenty already, and he'd come out of it limping but still strong. He could take that kind of thing, no problem. Revenge was fun, too.

And it was revenge, dammit, revenge and overconfidence that had led him to his doom. He should never have come here but he had to. He needed to get this over with. And it was over. Oh, yes, it was over. For him. Not exactly what he'd planned.

Couldn't they understand? Why did he always end up going against them? Johnny opened his eyes and looked into the rain without reserve, and found his answer. It was cowardice. If he'd had the strength he'd have slammed his fist into the ground till it bled. All this time he was just a stupid fool toting a mask, acting, playing out a role for everyone to hate and turn from because he feared to let them see the real thing. Johnny laughed aloud.

"I'm a hell of an actor, ain't I?" he yelled to the strangely luminous grey sky that didn't give a damn, his voice cracking in his laughter. "Ain't I?!"

Maybe he shouldn't have. Maybe once in a while he should've let go of the mask and shown them the real person that felt as they did. But Johnny knew that the one thing he couldn't bear in this lifetime was to have them see the heart of the fire, and hate it, too. Let them hate the mask. Let them hate the role, the character, the spiteful Gladiator of Glasgow. Better him than Johnny. There was no way out. He couldn't let go of the deceptions, the fakery, it was his shield. Even when he'd seen the dead end he'd been trapped by the path of his own choosing. There was no way out. He couldn't change what he'd become.

His fire burned now only in battle. Only in battle could he let himself go and just be. Be one with Salamulyon. Be alive. Free.

Fire is meant to be apart. To warm your hands you don't stick them into the flames. Get too close to the fire and you'll be burned. Johnny knew that. But it seemed his comrades, and the world, didn't. Johnny would not let anyone be burned. He thought he'd quenched the fire but it had burned all along, reaching out without his noticing. He loved the rain. He loved the fire. The fire wasn't only death and destruction, it was also hope and passion and life, and love. Unfortunately for Johnny.

The world had parted ways with him but he couldn't part ways with the world. He loved this world, for all its ridiculous people and imperfections, for all it seemed to hate him with zeal. Johnny laughed again, his life was an irony, that was this truth. Sometimes lies are better than the truth.

Kai. His smile vanished. Kai was coldfire, and for that reason he was luckier than Johnny. Damn him. Johnny had fought him in battle, and he knew the Phoenix's fire was all the hotter for the coldfire that surrounded it. He envied that. Yes, he admitted it. Johnny MacGregor envied his rival, Kai Hiwatari of the Bladebreakers who'd brought him and his powerful Salamander to their knees. Johnny closed his eyes and sighed, as though a great burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

The last truth. He was empty now. He'd let go of all his illusions.

A red-hot poker stabbed his side with a suddenness that cut his breath and wrenched a groan from his lips. Damn. The pain was back now. Just when he thought he'd finally get to sleep. Sleep till the grass turns green and beyond. Forever.

"Johnny?" He wasn't going to be getting his breath back anytime soon. That voice, that vibrantly colored voice rang out. Was he slipping into a dream, a hallucination? "Johnny!" A renewed cry. Johnny smiled and opened his eyes, searching.

Olivier stood faintly silhouetted against the gray sheets of rain at the mouth of the little alley, his elegant garments dripping wet.

It seemed Fate didn't hate him that much after all. It had just granted his last, dearest wish. If Olivier was here then… He had to ask. Pride had nothing more to do with it. He had to ask.

"Oliv… ier?" _What_ was wrong with his voice? His vocal chords seemed to be slacking off. Frankly, he couldn't care less.

Because Olivier was here, kneeling next to him with wide dark eyes and usually immaculate chartreuse locks falling soaked and straggly over his face. He looked even more childlike than usual.

"Johnny! Oh Dieu, Johnny, what happened?" Olivier fumbled with his cell phone, trying to shield it from the rain. "Enrique, Robert! I've found him! Get over here _maintenant_! Tout de suite! I don't _know_ where here is, _utilise ta carte_, voyons!" The Parisian boy's English was slipping and his usually smooth voice going through all the octaves in his anxiety. He then called an ambulance, his voice behaving even more erratically, before dropping the phone unheedingly on the ground as he turned back to his red-haired friend.

"Just hold on a little longer, Johnny, s'il-te-plaît, ne lâche pas, je t'en prie!" Olivier pleaded, the hope in his eyes fading as his gaze fell on the bloody mess that was Johnny's right side. The French boy unwound the white silk scarf about his neck and tried to staunch the abundant flow of blood from the wound. Then gingerly, hesitantly, he reached out and pulled the fiery Scot to him, ignoring the blood that seeped onto his royal blue redingote despite all his efforts. Johnny just gave him a faint smile, and that scared him more than the sight of the horrible wound.

"The others will be here very soon." Olivier had no idea whether he was trying to reassure Johnny or himself as he cradled the auburn head in his hands. Perhaps both. The blue bandanna slipped through his fingers and settled gently as a feather into a puddle beside him.

There was a sound like rising thunder and then an ear-splitting screech in the street beyond. A few curses not in English rent the muffled silence, and both Johnny and Olivier looked up in relief.

"Over here!" Olivier called out.

Moments later, Robert and Enrique came dashing into the alleyway, the Majestics captain nearly taking an undignified tumble into the mud as he slipped on the slick paving. Cursing profusely, he regained himself on hands and knees and came to join the somber little gathering.

Enrique bit his lip and scowled fiercely, turning from the sight of his red-haired friend. His blond tufts had been soaked till they were a drooping tumble on his head, and a slow, deadly anger stirred in the long-lashed blue eyes.

"Damn it!" He surprised them all, including himself, with his outburst. "DAMN IT! I'll kill that son of a bitch! When I find him I'll RIP HIM APART!!!" His Beyblade found its way into his hand and he gripped it till his knuckles were white and his fingers hurt deep from the sharp points. He slammed his fist against the wall, not even thinking of the safety of his Blade.

"Enrique!" Robert said sharply, "Get ahold of yourself. You're no use to anyone like this!"

The Italian turned back with head bowed, hiding his angry tears, ashamed of his loss of control. He knew Robert was right. They had to pull together, be calm and think on their feet at a time like this. Flares of temper weren't going to help anyone. But when he'd seen the proud knight lying limp and mangled in the rain, his fury had bubbled over. Johnny was a fighter, there could be no doubt about that. Could Fate be so cruel as to end his 17-year life like this, here, in this dingy little alley? It could. For all his frivolity and his blind adoration where girls were concerned, Enrique was not blind to this. Fate could and would let the great Gladiator of Glasgow fall in such an ignoble manner.

Johnny had been foolish, but he didn't deserve to die for it. They had all understood his reasons even if they had not agreed with his going. Enrique cursed himself for letting Johnny break away without even trying to do anything. This was as much his fault as Johnny's.

The eagle-eyed prince himself was anything but calm. Outwardly he displayed a cool, composed façade and took control forcefully if he had to, but being leader wasn't what most thought it to be. It wasn't limitless power, nor the ability to do whatever you wanted to do. He felt personally responsible for what had happened to Johnny. He hadn't counted on Johnny actually getting up and leaving the team, no matter what he said. He'd been as much bewildered as any of the others by the sudden turn of events back at the mansion, though he never showed it. Even Robert lost his temper sometimes, and the peppery Scot seemed to make a sport out of getting on his nerves. Still, he should have exercised more self-control. After all, he understood more than anyone Johnny's reasons for such a foolhardy venture.

Olivier was blaming himself, too. If he hadn't listened to Robert, if he'd gone after Johnny despite Robert's threat to throw him out too, maybe things could have been different and one of his very best friends wouldn't be lying here dying in his arms. The usually cheerful boy took a deep, shuddering breath and struggled to hold back tears of despair. He felt so helpless! They were just a bunch of kids and for all their money and power what could they do against death? The ugly reality he'd been running from for so long had caught up to him at last, and it wasn't letting go any time soon. This was a nightmare. It had to be.

Johnny saw the guilt and sorrow in their faces and couldn't stand the heavy silence any longer.

"So… why'd you guys come after me?" He glanced at Robert, who looked away. "I thought you didn't want to have anything to do with me anymore."

"_Jamais_!" Olivier cried out vehemently. All blinked. A lot of surprises were surfacing here today. "Did you really think we'd abandon you like that? No matter what _anybody_ says, you _are_ one of us and that _won't_ change." He gave a half-hearted smile. "Enrique and I ganged up on Robert after you left. What he did was wrong, and he knows that." Robert growled but didn't deny it. Johnny felt a new feeling rising in him like an exultant mountain spring splashing energetically on the rocks in its lively descent.

"Even if he hadn't agreed we'd have come anyway, and we would've tied him up and gagged him and dragged him here with us, too." Johnny raised an eyebrow. Enrique was serious. The blond looked up and smiled warmly at him. "Olivier's right, Johnny." One blue eye closed in a fleeting wink. "All for one and one for all!"

The redhead snorted. Olivier spoke again, a note of laughter in his voice and his gloomy eyes taking on a new sparkle. "Remember the swimming pool?"

Both Johnny and Robert groaned. Enrique jumped in eagerly, chuckling, "Oh, yeah! You mean that time these two clowns dared each other to drink Robert's Olympic-size pool?"

"Come off it!" Johnny rolled his eyes. "We were eight!"

Even Robert couldn't hold back a slight smile at the memory. Olivier grinned. "That's the one! And at the end of the week Gustov had them both tied to chairs and force-fed chicken soup for the entire weekend!" Chicken soup was taboo among the Majestics. Anything but chicken soup.

"Hey! Remember the time Enrique's yacht fell into a whirlpool?"

"Don't remind me!"

"Enrique, don't you still owe me twelve hundred francs for that?"

"_Olivier_?!"

"And the day Olivier discovered the rustic joy of eating cookie dough?"

"Florentine omelette twist! Mm-mmm!"

General expressions of disgust went around at that one.

"And the time…"

A flood of remembering followed until everyone was laughing, even the stoic Robert.

And Johnny saw for the first time the unbreakable bond of friendship that had led them here to him even after everything said and done, even after he'd sought to push them away in his distrust. And the flame burned strong in his heart, warming and strengthening his resolve. He owed it to them.

The good times had eventually come to an end. All too soon, silence fell again and the only sound in the little alley was the steady patter of the rain that had not even thinned. The Majestics avoided each other's eyes.

"I've been a bastard, haven't I?" They all looked at Johnny in surprise. He caught each of their eyes in turn, including all of them in his admission. He smirked slightly at the discomfort level of everyone, including himself, but his eyes were sad. "I know I shouldn't've let him get to me, but I've been a lousy friend ever since…"

"That's not true." Olivier objected, but his voice lacked conviction. He looked away and couldn't make himself meet those crystal amethysts again.

Once again, the only sound in the silence was the rain.

"I'm sorry." Johnny's voice was so soft it was miracle anyone heard him, but somehow they all did. "I'm so sorry…" He closed his eyes, and his voice grew even softer, if that was possible. Still, it carried through the rain. "I was afraid… He told me… He told me…" The red-haired boy stiffened as pain gripped him once again, then sighed in defeat. "The things he said…"

"Apology accepted." Johnny opened his eyes and stared at Robert in surprise, as did the other two. The hawkish chiseled features softened slightly and relented into a smile as the carnelian eyes settled on the Scottish boy. "There is no need."

Johnny saw the understanding in those eyes and smiled back. "Thank you."

Enrique and Olivier looked on uncomprehendingly, but they smiled, too, caught up in the feeling of general goodwill that had suddenly settled on the little group. Another silence had come upon them, but it was not an uncomfortable silence. The rain seemed to be letting up, the droplets softer, almost like mist now.

Robert had his chin in one hand, staring somewhere beyond the wall before him with a pensive expression on his face. His purple hair sprang down about his face in unruly wisps, the layered locks slick with rain.

"We have still to regain our honor," he began slowly, as though searching for words. Then he was silent for a time before he looked around with a smirk. "And three is such a poor number, don't you think? Especially when the Bladebreakers are five."

Johnny's face lit up, and both Enrique and Olivier broke out into huge grins. Was Robert saying what they thought he was?

The Majestics captain began to laugh softly as he held up his pale blue Blade. The rest immediately understood his intentions and within moments Beyblades appeared in every hand, proudly adorned with their powerful bits. Johnny clutched the orange-red Blade that had lain forgotten in his hand, amethyst eyes shining, and he raised himself unsteadily to his feet with Olivier's aid, the searing pain in his side utterly insignificant to his joy.

Both Enrique and Robert approached to stand before him and Olivier, completing the ring. Then each of them raised their hand, the bright deadly Beyblades flashing in all their glory even in the dimming light. With a great shower of sparks, the four Blades collided above their heads, and four voices called out in unison, "Majestics forever!" And then all of them threw their heads back and laughed helplessly but delightedly at the childish battlecry.

Without warning, dazzling light shafted from their blades as the bits came to life. The four boys looked on in awe as from each Blade erupted a towering mythical figure shining with its own vivid color. Griffolyon, part lion part eagle, reared behind Robert with a piercing cry, enfolding him in its massive purple wings. Amphilyon's twin serpent heads hissed, snaking over Enrique's shoulders as its scaly winged body coiled again and again around the group, radiating fierce orange. Snowy-maned Unicolyon rose on its hind legs and screamed its challenge to the sky, thrusting its pearly horn defiantly at the heavens before coming to rest its soft nose against Olivier's cheek, nickering into his ear. And Salamulyon's mighty armored body flickered gold in the roaring purple flames that wreathed both bitbeast and master as giant claws scooped Johnny off the ground with surprising gentleness. The red-haired knight smiled at the comforting warmth of the fire against his cheeks. The rain appeared to have ceased altogether. The enormous forms of the bitbeasts seemed to fill the sky.

"It's… _beautiful_," Olivier breathed in awe as he stroked Unicolyon's alabaster face.

"I'll say! They're awesome!" Enrique laughed throatily as Amphilyon's heads flicked him with their forked tongues.

Neither Robert nor Johnny said a word, content to revel in the feel of their partners' power. Griffolyon's surprisingly soft feathers tickled Robert's cheeks and he couldn't restrain a chuckle that came out of nowhere. Salamulyon purred low in its throat as it held Johnny to its nose and peered at him with fierce but curious eyes. Johnny smiled and rubbed the rounded snout, and the lizard rumbled with pleasure.

All this passed in a moment, and then the bitbeasts became torrents of light once more, swirling together in a dizzying bright vortex before pouring back into their respective bits. All except Salamulyon. The bitbeast seemed reluctant to put its Blader down. Johnny found himself unable to tear his eyes from glistening bright ones of his partner as the rain poured over all of them once again. Despite the great quantities of water sloshing over its head, Johnny saw with astonishment that the bitbeast was crying.

"Salamulyon…?" A low unsteady growl came from the great throat before the lizard deposited him carefully on his feet. Johnny suddenly realized he was exhausted and he would have fallen hard had Olivier not come to his aid, easing him to the ground and propping him up. The pain was distant now, but it sapped his strength and he struggled to speak. "Salamulyon… Thank you… for your fire."

The bitbeast looked almost forlorn as it stared down at him, and then it flung its crested head back and howled to the sky, a plaintive note in its voice. The flames deepened their color till they were almost black and shot up over the walls, a raging inferno of sorrow. A flash of golden-purple light later, Salamulyon was gone. The Beyblade lay quietly in Johnny's hand, the bit winking softly at him in the now rapidly fading light.

Everything seemed unreal now under the rain that was coming back with a vengeance. It felt like he was floating away from everything without actually moving, and that was fine with him.

"Johnny." Olivier's face swam into view above him, pleading. "Johnny please. Don't go yet. Attends un peu plus. They'll be here soon, and they'll fix you up and then we'll go settle our account with the Bladebreakers and…" His voice trailed off and silence reigned.

And then it suddenly became real, stark and cold in the twilight the truth wrapped the Majestics in its embrace like a cape of ice. Johnny was leaving, and this time they wouldn't be able to go after him.

"Aww, don't be such a buncha wet blankets," the redhead whispered, feeling the last of his life draining from him as he looked about at the downcast faces around him.

Enrique squeezed his eyes shut and looked away. With a tremendous effort, it seemed, he jerked his head around, blond locks throwing out sprays of moisture from the excessive amount of force he put into the motion. His blue eyes were as desolate as Salamulyon's had been. "Argh, _don't_, Johnny!"

Robert stood still as a statue. He seemed to be in a sort of daze.

Johnny smiled, that tender sweet smile from another time that none of them had thought to ever see again. As the amaranthine eyes slid closed, they seemed to look somewhere far beyond Olivier. Johnny's last words were lost to the rain.

"You will no longer have to share your flame, Phoenix."

"No." Olivier's voice trembled. "No, Johnny!"

The bit on the orange-red blade in the now limp hand suddenly broke asunder in a flash of purple fire and crumbled to fine gray dust. A blinding burst of golden light flared from the ruins and blazed into the sky, a nova that rocketed away to disappear into the distant heights. And with it a high, keening call, a cry of grief not of this world that seemed to make the very earth tremble.

Lightning flashed, lighting up the darkness of the heavy clouds, followed almost immediately by a clap of thunder. The rain had taken on thunderstorm proportions. The droplets fell with renewed force, and seemed to bring with them a new chill that pierced clothes and flesh and bone. The Majestics shivered, but not one made a move to seek shelter from the icy cold.

Bright droplets grazed their cheeks, more bitter than any rain.

In the distance rose the shrill, insistent wail of a siren.

***

Thousands of miles away, Kai Hiwatari started awake and found that he was using the hotel desk for a pillow. How in the world had he managed to fall asleep?! The room was almost completely dark save for the last burnished rays of the setting sun and it had obviously been a while since early afternoon, the last he remembered.

Kai leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, burying his hands in his pale blue spikes. His dark brown eyes glared at the mahogany surface of the bureau with a strange intensity, searching the smooth wooden surface for something that was not there.

He'd had a dream, an almost terrifyingly vivid dream. Yet even as he reached to grasp it with his mind, the details slipped away and blurred. He could remember nothing except for something about a Salamander, and a pair of strangely familiar crystalline eyes looking straight at him, boring into his soul.

And those words. He remembered them with peculiar clarity. _"You will no longer have to share your flame, Phoenix."_

With a somewhat forced laugh, he pushed away from the table so hard that the chair fell over with a muffled thump onto the deep maroon carpet as he stood. All he'd done was fall asleep like some idiot amateur while he was modifying his Beyblade. The dark-eyed captain of the Bladebreakers made his way over the large window that faced the west. He pushed aside the gossamer curtains and slid the window open, leaning out and feeling the soft mild breeze toss his hair.

In the distance the sun burned with a liquid fiery brilliance in a sky of vermeil-lined gold, the round disk seeming to undulate as though seen across the desert on a hot day. It cast a shimmering trail like melted copper across the rippling expanse of waves that was the ocean. The hotel overlooked the beach. He narrowed his eyes and peered at the horizon. What he was searching for, he didn't know. And then he saw it.

The faintest, most distant flash of gold. A comet, streaking its way across the sky, just on the lower fringe of the sun, all but invisible to the world. But Kai caught its brief appearance, and a smile tugged at his lips. Why, he did not know.

A chill coursed through him then. The wind was warm as ever. This cold had seized deep inside, like a trickle of ice-cold water down the throat. And he knew.

He knew before Kenny came rushing in, laptop askew, with the tragic news. He knew before Tyson bellowed in disbelief before the entire lobby. He knew even before Dranzer's bit glowed, and the Phoenix screamed, a strange, throbbing cry that reverberated about the room and filled it like the strains of a sad melody.

In that moment, though he couldn't know how, he knew something special to him and his Phoenix had gone from this world.

***

The Phoenix's flame is immortal. It will never die, no matter how many times it wanes. No matter what. It is the stronger. It is the sun, ever-present, filling and dominating the sky with its light. Passion, power, destruction.

The Salamander loves the flame. It lives in the flame, fights in the flame, dies in the flame. Yet Johnny was wrong. The Salamander possesses its own fire. The Salamander's fire is not in the least like the passionate inferno of the Phoenix. Yet it is not the weaker. The Salamander's fire burns deep within, quietly, unseen. Its life is brief as a shooting star, gone in a blink compared to the Phoenix's eternal flame, yet in some ways it burns hotter than the Phoenix ever will. Anger, love, hope.

The two fires burn together, the two creatures inextricably linked. When the Salamander's flame dies, the Phoenix's fire burns colder.

Each soul in this world has another soul so akin to itself that another such will never be found again in this lifetime or the next. The greatest wonders and the greatest griefs come to those such souls that find each other.

And when one departs, the other will never again be quite the same. It has had the briefest of tastes of something beyond this world.

Phoenix and Salamander. Two souls akin, linked through life and death and beyond, and forever thereafter.

***

Rain and sun.

Water and fire.

In the end, everything becomes the mist of memories.

***

**A/N**: *sniff* That was so weird… and kinda depressing… The world's gonna kill me for this, I just know it. There don't seem to be a lot of Majestics fans out there, let alone Johnny fans. Anyway, I wrote this because there just aren't enough fics about my beloved knight out there! And I read a review bashing Johnny, and got all riled, and… this is my response. It's a one-shot. No more. How could you expect me to write a sequel when I just killed off my favorite guy in the whole world?! ;_;

If you ask who 'He' is that Johnny keeps talking about, I will accuse you of an underactive imagination. Remember, this isn't yaoi unless you want it to be. I didn't intend it, anyway. I know this is probably OOC. The guy's dying, whaddaya expect?! Then again, maybe I'm just a bad author. Meep. -_- This is after the Bladebreakers battle the Majestics. Consider it AU.

Tell me what you think. Review. Flamers welcome. The greatest honor you could ever do me if you even like this: WRITE A FIC ABOUT JOHNNY, OR ANY OF THE MAJESTICS, OR THE WHOLE TEAM DAMMIT, THERE AREN'T ENOUGH OUT THERE!!! Thank you. *bow*

+++

Dictionary of Terms:

Olivier – This is the authentic French version. There is no such name as Oliver in French. In my experience it is pronounced in English the same way as Oliver. Trust me. I lived in Quebec. I know.

Oh Dieu – Oh God

Maintenant – Now

Tout de suite – Right away/Right 'now'

Utilise ta carte – Use your map

S'il-te-plaît, ne lâche pas, je t'en prie – Please, don't give up, I beg of you/'please'

Jamais – Never

Florentine omelette – Olivier the chef's specialty! ^^

Attends un peu plus – Wait a little longer

+++

Disclaimer: The comet under the sun idea was inspired by SuperKat's wonderful fic The Cunning Wolf. Zoid fans must read, especially Jamie fans. It's so terribly sad! Poor Jamie… The part about the fires and stuff was inspired by flower-on-thewind's great Kai/Tyson tidbit in the Kevin/Rei variation of her fic. That's it, I think. Oh, yeah. I don't own Beyblade. =P I do wish I owned Johnny tho. ^.~


End file.
